


clouds roll in

by tigriswolf



Series: autobiography [24]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Autobiography, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10483002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: Eyes dry, I stand in the storm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written March 27, 2017
> 
> A couple days ago, for reasons I still can't pinpoint, my mood plummeted from happyish to wondering what the point of being alive was since I was so sad. It was storming outside. I really wanted to cry, but couldn't seem to - so I went into the frontyard and stood in the rain. 
> 
> (After a nap that lasted half the day, I woke up no longer wondering what the point of being alive is.)

Clouds roll in,  
dark, full of thunder,  
a freezing wind  
and icy rain.  
I stand,  
smelling smoke,  
ashy, soot-stained,  
letting the sky cry  
the tears I cannot cry.

Gaping wounds heal,  
flesh knits back together,  
become bruises, become scars.  
Sharp pain lessens to aches.  
Aches fade—

The pain turns to a memory  
that hits suddenly,  
in flashes like lightning,  
in waves like thunder.

Head tilted down,  
hair loose, icy rain  
soaking into my shirt,  
dripping down my shoulders.  
I lift my chin,  
eyes dry  
while water washes across my face.  
Freezing wind whips around me,  
and I ache, but shivering,  
no tears come—  
So I let the world weep for me. 

Suddenly, sometimes I don’t  
even know why, what  
caused it, how to keep it  
from happening again—

Clouds roll in, dark,  
full of thunder, full of ice.  
Clouds roll in as I remember,  
as I shudder in the wind  
while the sky cries on my face.

I tilt my head down,  
close my eyes, shiver and ache.  
High above me, thunder  
shakes the sky, lightning  
burns—burns.  
The sky cries for me. 

Clouds roll in.  
I smell ash on the freezing wind.  
There is soot on my hands,  
so I lift them to the rain.  
I cannot cry—  
I want to, but no tears come. 

I stand in the storm  
so the world can grieve for me. 

Eyes closed,  
face towards the sky,  
the clouds roll in  
and I inhale  
air clear of smoke.


End file.
